


Yours

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New 52, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the new 52 universe. Bruce's reaction when Nightwing's suit turns red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

“You don’t like it.”

In the darkness of the cave, Dick can barely see his face. But he has his cowl on, so it wouldn’t make much a difference.

Even if he wonders what the edges of Bruce's mouth look like, if he’s completely stoic or maybe, just maybe grimacing a little.

“It’s… different,” Bruce says.

For some reason, Dick feels a need to explain himself. Whenever he earns the man’s disapproval, however buried and politely obscured it is. “Well, I just…” he’s fidgeting with one of his gauntlets, fingers tracing the grooves down his hand, “I didn’t think I could go back to the same one. I mean, I’m… not really the same person I was, before… you know. The Batman phase. I needed a new start.”

Bruce gives a short reply. Too short. “Right,” that’s barely an assurance. It’s one of the standard replies he gives to end a conversation.

So Dick follows his lead. He’s about to leave the room and close their conversation, adjusting the edges of his domino mask to make sure it’s in place. He says, “Alright, I’m gonna go. I guess I’ll…” And he lets his words trail off.

It’s a test. Just to gauge the response.

Bruce says nothing. Does nothing. Appears to have barely noticed the absence. Dick stares at him, for an extended moment of tense silence.

“Wow,” Dick almost wants to laugh. “You really hate it.”

“No,” Bruce answers so swiftly that it startles him. But the more he speaks, the more he slows down. His voice betrays him. Dick can notice the slight edge to every word, the assertion of finality, like he’s convincing himself of his argument. Voice heavy and firm. “I understand. People change.”

Silence.

When Dick speaks, he’s trying to keep the emotion out of his words, but that’s never been his strongest skill. “…Is that what you don’t like?”

Bruce says nothing.

Dick expected that. “Bruce…”

Sometimes the silence is oppressive. Sometimes.

“You know I’m…” he even smiles a little, to convey his good intention, “Deep down, I’m always gonna be your Robin, right?” He wants to laugh at himself for saying something so childish, but it doesn’t feel as ridiculous as it should. Like many uncomfortable truths between them, it’s too genuine to take back.

Dick tells him, “I’m always gonna be your partner." A quiet truth that sneaks out. “You know that, right?”

Silence. But this time it’s different. This is thoughtful.

Intentional, as Dick stares back in awe, surprise seizing him when Bruce raises his hand towards his face. Reassurance, when he feels the cold touch against his skin, clumsy, gloved fingers tracing along his jawline.

Dick finds it within himself to laugh. Very quietly. “Here,” he seizes that hand, grinning to himself as he grabs the fingertips of Bruce’s glove and tugs on them, making quick work to slide his glove off. He presses that bare hand to his face, exactly where it was before. “Now you can feel it,” he says.

Bruce’s hand is so cold.

It’s the slight caress that makes him shiver. The words that are haunting. “I could, before.”

Because Bruce knows what Dick’s skin feels like. His mind paints the image and the sensations. His memories fill in the details he can’t immediately sense.

Dick’s almost laughing again, but he’s not telling a joke. “Hey,” even if his tone is playful. “Don’t worry so much.” His smile extends to the far corners of his mouth. “You’re gonna get old.”

He turns and kisses that hand, right in the center of his palm. “I’m always gonna be here, okay?”

When Dick turns away slightly, Bruce is allowing his fingers to ghost over the side of his face, a whisper of a touch that's clumsy and rough and somehow fragile, like the slightest gesture could stir it away. It’s a curious sensation, like each one between them. But that’s what’s so interesting. Bruce is rough and cold and warm and hesitant, all at once. Like he's afraid to lose something but afraid to seize it.

“I liked the blue,” Bruce finally says.

Dick gives a small laugh.


End file.
